


Ara ma'athlan vhenas / I will call you Home

by Maeve_MacTir



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Rivain, Rivaini People, Slavery, Tevinter Imperium, and no Bela's not dealing slaves, i know the characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_MacTir/pseuds/Maeve_MacTir
Summary: A Rivaini ship captain calls on the Inquisition to help her move some precious cargo across Tevinter borders. Meanwhile, Solas and Inquisitor Pyra are dealing with the aftermath of the events that led to Pyra losing her Vallaslin. When the cargo isn't what they were told, emotions run high.Will update tags as the story goes along.





	1. Fen'Harel ma ghilana / The Dread Wolf guides you

**Author's Note:**

> Since I am nowhere near an expert on Elvhen (I dare say I know next to nothing about it at all) please don’t assume any of my translations here are anywhere CLOSE to correct. I started out just grabbing the words I knew and needed, then pieced them together according to English syntax. Then, I had to delve deep into Elvhen syntax, the limited amount we have. What I have should be as grammatically correct as possible, but it might also be total nonsense. I tried my best, but it’s a lot of guessing and hoping. FenxShiral was my biggest help, and by far the most authorative voice on the construction of Elvhen the fandom has. Please, look to him for guidance and information.  
> _ Da’reth Shiral

Varric was surprised that the letter surprised him. Even more so, he was surprised that Fenris had managed to surprise him. For a guy with a huge sword and skin that glowed like a lyrium vein, he could be damn slippery. About as much subtlety as an arishok and somehow that damn elf had still slipped by his spy network. This is why Nightingale, and not him, was the Inquistion’s spymaster. Varric narrowed his eyes, leaning over the parchment. 

_I have left Kirkwall and am on my way to the Nnltirtilds_

Wait that didn’t make any sense. The dwarf dragged a candle closer, peering over the script even more intently. Nnderfits? Nnderlits? Anderf- 

“ANDERFELLS!” he suddenly exclaimed. Andraste, Fenris needs to work on his penmanship, he thought. The next sentence was not even close to legible. Varric could make an educated guess it said something about Weisshaupt though. The dwarf sighed. It didn’t come as a surprise that Fenris would go after Hawke. Frankly, Varric was surprised – and very happy – that Fenris hadn’t magically turned up at the gates of Skyhold while Hawke was still here. Hawke had assured Varric that Fenris wouldn’t try to pursue her to the mountain fortress, but you never know with that elf. Varric could only imagine what would have happened if he’d met Madame de Fer or Sparkles. Especially Sparkles. Varric shuddered. He could already hear the Tevinter shouts ringing through the castle. The letter continued, ending in some barely legible text which contained the words ‘anything happens to Hawke’ and ‘kill you myself’. Figures. Varric leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fenris, on the loose in Thedas without anyone to tell him that ripping people’s hearts out isn’t always the best first impression. Sure, it had done the trick for Hawke, but not everyone would be charmed by it. No, Broody on the loose didn’t sound like a good idea at all. If Fenris was going to cross several state borders, he’d need help. Varric sighed and dragged several empty pieces of parchment towards the candle. Ruffles, Nightingale and Curly should know about this, they might be able to help his friend.

He had only just finished the words “My most illustrious Spymaster” when Pyra Lavellan threw open Skyhold’s doors with such force Varric fell out of his chair. The Inquisitor marched through the hall, with a look on her face that she normally strictly reserved for Vivienne and Corypheus. Her face… Varric looked closer. The tattoos. The Valislan or whatever they were called, the blue lines on Pyra’s face were… gone. Pyra stomped passed him, not even noticing the dwarf on the ground. The door to the library flew open of its own accord. Varric scrambled backwards. It was easy to forget Pyra was terrifying when wielding her magic.

“SOLAS!” 

“Vhenan, I…” the reply was weak. Chuckles sounded… broken. Varric thought back. Solas had come through the hall a few hours ago, tears streaming down his face. He had shut himself in the library and Varric could have sworn he’d heard him cry. 

“DON’T!” Pyra shouted. “How DARE you?!”. She marched towards him. The other elf backed away, until he was standing with his back against the wall. 

“Ar lath ma! I melahn'an ma varem.”

"I did what I knew to be right, I never meant”

“LOOK AT ME!”. Pyra gestured to her now bare face. “Look at me! I gave you everything. My whole identity, I let you tear it all down! And you just…”

“Ar lasem mala revas…. Ar silem…”

“I NEVER ASKED YOU TO FREE ME! You chose to throw that at me and then… and then…” Pyra broke down. Her knees buckled and she staggered backwards, grabbing Solas’ desk for support. She looked up at the other elf, who would still not meet her eyes.  
“And then you left!”

“Vhenan I… It is not often words fail me. I am sorry.” He took a step towards the Inquisitor. Pyra was on the ground, hugging her knees. Her shoulders were shaking. Solas sank to his knees “Ir abelas…” The female elf looked up, tears streaming down her empty cheeks.

“I am too.” 

“I never meant…”

Pyra’s expression changed. Her slim shoulder tensed, her brow furrowed. “THEN WHY?” The anger didn’t carry. Her voice broke halfway through the second word. Her hands flew to her face.  
“Perhaps this isn’t…” Solas started. Varric knew what he meant. The dwarf had gathered his courage and has snuck closer to the door. Looking up, he could see every single person present in the library was looking down over the railing at the lover’s spat. Leliana seemed unsure of what to do. This wasn’t something she could fix using spies and information. The Nightingale of the Imperial Court was at a loss. Nobody else seemed sure of to do either. It was Dorian who finally acted. He muttered something in angry-sounding Tevinter and disappeared from view.

“Pyra… Vhenan, I would do anything to make—“, he never got to finish his sentence. Dorian emerged from the stairwell.

“I think you’ve done quite enough, don’t you?” Dorian walked past Solas and knelt at Pyra’s side.

“This doesn’t concern you, Dorian.” Solas’ voice still sounded thick. There was very little left of the proud and eloquent apostate people had grown accustomed to. Still, his face was hard when he looked at Dorian, kneeling beside the Inquisitor. “You have no business here.” Varric frowned. Solas and Dorian had never been the best of friends, but they’d always been on relatively good terms. The dwarf studied Solas more closely and prepared himself for the shouting match that was sure to follow. But Dorian did something Varric never thought he would ever do. He ignored Solas, leaving the Elf’s threat hanging in the air. Instead, he focussed on Pyra. 

“Inquisitor, are you alright?” his voice sounded more genuine than Varric had ever heard it. Pyra looked up, and Dorian audibly sucked in a surprised breath.

“Maker!” he said, slightly jolting backwards. This… didn’t help things. Pyra’s shoulders slumped and her hands almost clawed at her barren skin. A raw, ragged scream escaped from her throat. Her black hair fell over her face, the little braid at her shaven left temple escaped from behind her pointed ear. Varric was reminded of Fenris. Both Fenris and Pyra possessed this fierce need to be independent, yet somehow, they were both kept prisoner by it. Looking at Pyra, Varric could see she was in pain. He had no idea what drove her to remove her tattoos, but it was clear that it had hit her hard. The Tevinter recovered quickly however, softly taking Pyra’s hands into his own. The look on Solas’ face was utterly heart-breaking. It was clear that emotions were running rampant and Varric decided this might be a good time to step in, before the three mages gathered in that room blew Skyhold even more sky-high than it already was.  
Varric held up his hands diplomatically. Looking up, he saw the mages of the library were growing more and more concerned. Varric guessed there was magic in the air, but he couldn’t feel it. Whatever was going on, Pyra was in danger of losing her grip on her  
magic. Varric didn’t want to think about what Pyra could unleash. She was powerful and if her magic was let loose uncontrolled, there was no telling what would happen to the mark on her hand. He shuddered. He had to separate the two Elves, and fast.

“Chuckles, why don’t you take a few steps back. This is… not exactly helping matters…”

“Sssshhhh. It will be alright.” Dorian hushed Pyra, who was still crying uncontrollably. The Tevinter turned around to face Solas, his face contorted with rage. “What have you done, Solas?”  
“The matter is private. I wanted...” the Elf looked helpless. He shook his head, his shoulders slumped. “Perhaps… Perhaps Master Tethras is right. I believe my presence here is only making things worse.” Solas looked at Pyra, eyes full of hurt and sorrow. Then, he turned around and walked towards the bridge to Cullen’s office. Right as he was about the exit, he turned his head.

“Get Cole. He will be able to help.” Then he was gone.


	2. Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Varric attempt to help the Inquisitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a while, and this chapter just wouldn't work, so I decided to just publish it. Please, let me know what you think, this is my first serious fanfic, and I want to know your thoughts!!

“Bare betrayed broken. You thought they were something they were not. He told you, he freed you. But it hurts. Unchained but bound all the more. Chained to the confusion, the guilt, like plants to the soil. You fear you will die if the soil is taken away;”

As per usual, nobody expected Cole’s sudden presence. He had appeared on the wooden construction Solas used for the murals of the library.

“I felt hurt. Solas’ pain. Your pain. I will try to help.”

The spirit jumped down. He vanished and reappeared next to Pyra. The lithe Elf hadn’t moved since Solas left. Varric could tell by her shoulders, she was still sobbing uncontrollably. When she sensed the spirit draw near, she lifted her head up to look at him. Varric was shocked by her appearance. He’d always thought of Pyra as a beautiful person, as much as he could tell with Elves, but now the Inquisitor looked horribly broken. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down her now barren face. The dwarf wanted to get closer, offer her comfort in some way… He had just taken a step towards Pyra when Cole spoke again. He reached towards Pyra’s face.

“I can make the hurt stop”, the spirit said.

The Elf’s eyes widened with shock as she realized what Cole was about to do. Her hand shot out, seizing Cole’s wrists.

“NO!” she cried, her voice hoarse and pained. “No…” she said, looking into Cole’s eyes.

The spirit seemed confused. “It’s okay. I can make it better. I can make you forget.”

Even in her current condition, Pyra managed a gentle smile. It amazed Varric that she managed to keep up the gentle manner in which she always treated Cole. She pushed his hands away gently.

“No, Cole. I don’t want to forget”, she said. Her voice broke again. “As much as it hurts, I need to feel it. I need to remember it.” She drew a quivering breath and looked up at Dorian. He offered her his hand.

“It’s okay Cole”, Dorian interjected as he saw the spirit’s puzzled expression.

“But…”

Varric thought quickly. He didn’t understand Cole completely, but he knew one thing. More than anything, Cole wanted to help people, and right now, two particular Elves needed his help.

“Hey, Kid”, Varric put a hand on Cole’s arm. “why don’t you go to Solas? Pyra’s got all of us here, but Chuckles is all alone. He needs you more than the Inquisitor right now”, he offered. Cole cast a concerned look at Pyra, but Varric nodded encouragingly towards the door Solas had disappeared through.

“Will she be safe?” he asked.

Varric nodded. “I promise, Kid.”

“Okay. Okay, I will help Solas”, Cole answered. And with that, he was gone. Dorian shot Varric a grateful look.

The dwarf took a deep breath. “You okay Inquisitor?” he asked, quite stupidly. He took a few steps towards her. As she rose, Varric saw her looking at the murals around the library. Solas’ murals. Her eyes flickered over the distinctive elven art Solas had created around Skyhold’s centre of knowledge. On these walls, he had chronicled his time with Pyra. And she was looking right at it.

_Crap._

He looked at Dorian, gesturing intently with his head towards the walls.

_Hey Sparkles, the Inquisitor is on the verge of a mental breakdown and she is currently standing in the room filled with artwork by her – presumably – former lover. Little help?!_

Dorian’s eyes widened as the Tevinter mage caught his warning. He gently took Pyra’s arm and led her out towards Skyhold’s main hall. Pyra, who always seemed so fierce and determined on the battlefield, looked so fragile and small now that she was being held to prevent her falling apart. The two mages slowly made their ways across Skyhold’s main hall, Varric following closely behind. They walked towards the throne, Dorian pointedly ignoring the curious looks they were getting. Varric increased his pace.

“Eh.. Sparkles, I don’t want to seem rude, but… where are we going, exactly?”

The Tevinter turned his head. “The stables”, he said, as he gently guided Pyra towards Josephine’s office. Varric hurriedly followed as they made their way down the stairs and through the kitchen. The lower courtyard was deserted, not even the stable master was at his post.

“Where is everyone?” Varric asked.

“Tavern. Bull and his Chargers are putting on some sort of show. A feeble attempt at a melee, I’m sure”, the Tevinter responded, gesturing vaguely towards the tavern.

“What?! Why does nobody tell me about these things?” Varric muttered. He shook his head. Not the most important thing now, Tethras, he scolded himself. They reached the bottom of the stairs. As they entered the stables, Pyra let out a shaky breath. She looked around the spacious room, breathing in the scent of hay and animal fur. Lyros, the Inquisitor’s Hart let out an impatient huff and stretched his elegant head out towards her. A genuine smile spread across Pyra’s lips as she approached her trusted steed. She whispered little nonsense words as she stroked his neck. Dorian and Varric just watched, quietly waiting for Pyra to speak. Varric studied the elf, really looking at her barren face for the first time. Without the tattoos, Pyra looked younger. More vulnerable, like the blue lines had been a shield that had been torn from her grasp. She looked softer. Kinder almost. But most of all, she looked sad. Her eyes, which normally shone so brightly, were dull and empty. They were still swollen and red from crying, and her breaths were still uneven.

What would Daisy look like without her tattoos? Varric wondered. He thought back to the vulnerable black-haired elf him and Hawke had dragged away from her clan on Sundermount. He had a hard time imagining her without the green lines that marked her face. Varric shook his head. Best not to dwell on such things. Being Dalish meant everything to Daisy, just as it did to Pyra. Varric would rather not see another friend reduced to tears. He’d seen too many of those already.

He turned his head to look at Dorian, who was studying Pyra intently, with a concerned look on his face.

After several minutes of silence, the Inquisitor looked up at them. “Thank you”, she said. Her voice was hoarse, from crying and screaming. She gave Lyros. one final pat and walked towards the fire.

“I miss the halla.” Pyra’s voice was thick. She held her hand out to the fire and watched absentmindedly as it danced along the palm of her hand. “As a child, whenever I felt sad or alone, I went to our clan’s halla.”

“You don’t speak off your clan often.”

Pyra shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

“You miss them.” It wasn’t a question. Dorian sat down next to the Inquisitor.

The Elf drew a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. The flame on her hand disappeared and Pyra turned away from the fire to face them.

“Did Merrill ever tell you what Dalish Vallaslin means?” she asked.

“The markings? Daisy told me they were like… a rite of passage. Dalish kids get them when they reach maturity.” Varric recalled.

Pyra nodded. “We do. They’re dedicated to the Creators, ours Gods. Mine is…” Pyra’s voice halted for a second before she corrected herself, “…was, the Vallaslin of Dirthamen, The Keeper of Secrets. He guided the Elders into Uthenara and gave the Elven people the gift of knowledge.”

Dorian smiled. “Fitting, for a mage.”

Varric dreaded the ask the question. “So… so what happened to it?”

“Solas removed them… He knew a spell, he took them away.”

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t imagine any spell that woul-umph!” Varric roughly planted his elbow into the Tevinter’s ribcage. “Not really the point, Sparkles.”  
Dorian shot Varric an annoyed look, but recovered quickly. “Of course, forgive me Inquisitor. Why did he remove them?”

“Because I asked him. They weren’t what I thought they were. Solas told me...” she took another shaky breath, “he told me they were slave markings.”

The silence that followed was horrible. Dorian looked absolutely horrified. Varric had often wondered what would be the moment that he would find himself completely and utterly speechless. He had expected it to involve a lot more fighting, demons or possibly Iron Bull in a dress… But in the end, it had been Pyra, delivering a statement that felt like a punch to Varric’s gut. The Dalish tattoos were slave markings. _Maker… if Daisy ever finds out… All those people…_ Varric thought about the Sabrae clan he met on Sundermount. He thought about the small clan he’d met on the Exalted Pains. He thought of Fenris, who also bore slave marking on his skin. If Fenris ever found out about the cruel irony behind his marks he would try to rip the Maker's heart out for having a shitty sense of humour.

“Well… that’s….” Dorian was at a loss for words, too.

“I couldn’t wear them anymore. Not after that. But still… those marks are how we differ ourselves from the city-elves in the Alienages… from elves like Sera, who don’t care about our origins.” Pyra nearly spat out the last half of the sentence.

The remark was poisonous, but Varric knew Sera and the Inquisitor didn’t get along very well. He would have put his hand on Pyra’s shoulder if he could have reached it. He settled for her knee.

“Hey, Inquisitor, it’s not some scribbles on your face that make a Dalish…” he offered her an encouraging smile. “It’s the pointy ears and the refusal to wear shoes that makes a Dalish.” That made Pyra snort. For just a second, Varric felt the knot in his stomach loosen. Pyra would get through this. They needed her to get through this.

“And here I thought it was the abysmal clothes and unfortunate hairstyles that make a Dalish”, Dorian mused. “Ah well,I suppose the world is full of surprises after all.”

“At least Dalish don’t trip over their own robes in the midst of combat.” Pyra retorted, wiping the tears from her eyes.

The Tevinter sighed. “Alas, the price of fashion is high sometimes.” Dorian took Pyra’s hand and offered her a gentle smile. “Let us visit our favourite Qunari. Seeing Bull get knocked around by people half his size is sure to cheer you up.”

 _Or at least distract you_ , Varric thought.

Pya sighed, but let Dorian pull her to her feet. There was a slight spring in her step again as they crossed the courtyard.

***

In the halls of Skyhold, Josephine opened a letter that had caught her attention in the post that morning. It was not often the Inquisition had dealings with Rivaini raiders. The paper stock was high quality and expensive, the writing was elegant and feminine. While she read, Josephine’s brow furrowed. She put the letter aside. Leliana would want to hear about this.


	3. The Trail of the Rebels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! I had a hard time deciding where to end this, which is why it took so long. Anyway, enjoy! Let me know what you think guys!

As Pyra climbed the stairs to her quarters, she felt drained to the core. Her friends’ intentions had been good, but after spending a night pretending to be fine and strong, the elf felt completely empty. Sleep, however, refused to come. She spent hours, looking at the ceiling of the tall room, the same thought playing over and over in her head.

_They’re gone…_

Solas had explained what they meant. She didn’t want to be marked as a slave for the rest of her life. But the Vallaslin… it was part of their culture. Part of what made her Dalish. They had meant freedom. But they had been chains. A familiar prayer came to her lips, a prayer to Dirthammen, the god whose Vallaslin she had born. But Pyra didn’t feel like praying. She would never feel like praying again. Everything her clan had ever taught her. Everything she had ever known. All of it had been a lie. How could she still call herself a Dalish? What did it even mean to be Dalish? If they’d gotten this wrong, what else did they get wrong. Maybe all of it was wrong. Her hands went to her face. Physically, it didn’t feel different, but she knew everything had changed. What would her clan think of her? Would they call her a flat-ear? Would they even believe her when she told them what the Vallaslin really were… Pyra’s world was spinning. She felt sick to her stomach. Her whole identity had been stripped away from her, by the person she had trusted most in this world. She angrily blinked away the tears. She’d spent enough time crying. Pyra turned on her side, and tried to focus on her breathing, to force her body to sleep.

Finally, she just gave up. Tonight, sleep would elude her. Pyra rolled out of the bed, dragging the thick blanket behind her, like the world’s heaviest cape. Whatever sleep she might have found was chased away by Skyhold’s cold exterior. Pyra eagerly drank in the cold air, letting it course through her body. Ice and cold were familiar to her. They were what she used to defend herself, to protect the people she cared about. Skyhold was full of ice and cold. They’d helped making her feel at home here.

_Home…_

Once, that had been wherever the clan was. Now, she wasn’t sure what home was anymore. Skyhold had been home for the last few months, but could it stay home forever? She had no idea what was going to happen after this. If she would even survive it. Her eyes wandered to her hand, and the Anchor that marked it. In Haven, when this all had started, Cassandra had told her that the mark was killing her. What would happen to it? Pyra shook her head.

_Haven…_

Everything had been so much simpler then. It had just been a simple matter of proving her innonce and getting back to her clan. Explain this whole mess to them, pack up, and move west, to the Anderfells or Nevarra. But then, her eyes had found the Breach. A giant, gaping green hole in the sky. The closer she had gotten through it, the more excruciating the pain in hand had been. Pyra looked down at the Anchor again. The glowing green mark had been stable for months. Would it remain that way? Pyra sighed. She lifted up her head, allowing to snow to fall on it. She wondered what tomorrow would bring.

 

* * *

 

Varric sat in front on his coffee, desperately trying to get his hand to stop banging. What Dorian had described as a melee had quickly dissolved into a drinking competition between Sera and Bull, and somehow, Varric had been dragged into joining it. The dwarf groaned in agony as a loud voice ran through Skyhold’s hall.

“Good morning my darlings, I trust you all had a lovely evening yesterday.” Vivienne walked over to the teapot and poured herself a cup.

“Why Varric, you look absolutely dreadful. Whatever happened to you?” Madame de Fer set the teapot down in an arguably louder fashion than was required.

“Vivienne, please, inside voice.” Dorian whined.

Vivienne scoffed. “Dorian, I expected better from you, honestly, a Tevinter mage, partying like an ordinary Fereldan peasant. Tsk, tsk, you ought to know better dear.” She shifted her gaze towards Bull, who was desperately trying to blend into the background. Unfortunately, being a 6 foot 5 inch Qunari made that rather difficult for Bull.

“Bull…”

He smiled sheepishly. “Yes ma’am. I’m sorry ma’am.”

Vivienne made a disapproving sound, but never got to finish her sentence. On the far side of the hall, the door to the Inquisitor’s room opened and Pyra walked out. Her shoulders were squared as she approached the table, her steps as light as ever.

She smiled as she sat down “Well, you all look like someone just died. Or like you are the ones dying.”

Sera groaned.

Pyra snorted. “Found the corpse then.” She was rewarded with another groan, followed by a muffled curse word.

“Feels good, having breakfast around an actual table, does it not, Inquisitor?” Vivienne mused.

Pyra looked at Vivienne over her glass, but didn’t respond. They spent the rest of breakfast in relative silence, apart from Sera’s occasional groaning. After two cups of strong Antivan coffee and a glass of the herbal concoction Elan Va’mel had conjured up, Varric abandoned his post at the table and went to his desk to look over the letters he hadn’t been able to read yesterday. Some letters from the Merchant’s Guild, which Varric promptly chucked in the fire. A few updates from his spy network, and a long overdue report about the Venatori activity they had observed in the Hissing Wastes. Finally, he got to a letter which he could almost not believe was there. It was sealed with red wax, the crest of the Felicisima Armada stamped into it.

 

 

> _Varric,_
> 
> _I hope you’re well. I heard you got captured by some Chantry nuthead, who wanted you to her help find our lovely Hawke. I trust you’ve been a good boy. She’s not been in contact with me much, last I heard, she was in Orlais. I do hope the Inquisition hasn’t been mistreating you. It’s been ages since you sent me anything, you haven’t forgotten dear old Bela have you? I would be dreadfully heartbroken to find you’ve found another muse for you Swords & Shield series. I read the latest chapter, by the way. I’m flattered. Not sure if Aveline is, though I must admit the cover piece is striking, you must send me the original art._
> 
> _Sadly, I must get to business. I need some help, old friend. Recently, some of the captains in the Armada have had business dealings with Tevinter slavers, behind my back. I’ve already punished most of them, but one has slipped past me. Luckily, I did intercept their ships, cargo still intact. The slavers are none the wiser. They do still expect their shipment and I fully intend to deliver. The captain that has eluded me must be captured, and the rest of the cargo must be liberated. I can’t do it alone Varric. This is too big, and my captains have already proven themselves untrustworthy. These slavers can be tricky bastards, if this goes south, I need people I can trust at my back. I’m counting on you Varric. I’m begging you here – and you of all people should know how rarely I am the one doing the begging – don’t let me down._
> 
> _All my love, Isabela._

Varric sighed, his headache had returned in tenfold. So Isabela hadn't been kidding when she said she was an Admiral.

“Oh Bela, what have you gotten yourself into.” Ten years in Kirkwall, tagging along with Hawke had apparently taught the Rivaini raider nothing. Varric reread the letter. Sending this to him had been a risk. The seal hadn’t been broken yet, so at least they wouldn’t have to worry about _another_ Tevinter magister launching an assault on Skyhold. Tevinter slavers were not known for their forgiving nature. Isabela had been there when they had confronted Danarius.

_She should know better. I should also know better._

The dwarf muttered a curse and put the letter in his pocket as he walked towards Josephine’s office.

_Sweet Maker, what are you getting us all into now, Rivaini?_

* * *

 

“Oh come on Josephine, it is hardly Orlesian political talk, a dim-witted child could figure out she means slaves!” Commander Cullen stood by the war table, staring at the letter Josephine had just read to them.

“Slaves she means to free, no doubt.” Leliana added. Her face was thoughtful.

“That is certainly the… implied message, yes.” Josephine took to letter from the table and placed it on her clipboard, eyes flickering over the lines again.

 

 

> _Ambassador Montilyet,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know you are accustomed to dealing with royalty, but I dare to think that I have made a significant enough impact on the world that you might recognize the letterhead. I have heard that Varric Tethras is a part of your Inquisition and I can only hope that he has spoken fondly of me._
> 
> _Ambassador, like Varric, I have spent time at the side of the Champion of Kirkwall, and has taught me the value of friendship. It is in the spirit of friendship, then, that I ask for the assistance of the Inquisition. I will gladly offer the full force of my fleet to your Inquisition, but it is my hope that my plight will be sufficient to persuade you to help me._
> 
> _Recently, some of my captains have been in contact with Tevinter slavers, and have been contracted to move some valuable cargo across the Tevinter border. I have been told they have a wealthy Magister there, as a buyer. I’ve heard of this particular magister before, and even though it is my firm belief that this cargo will not be treated with the proper respect and care in Tevinter, my captains have agreed to his proposal. This cargo is highly valuable and it is for this reason that I ask the Inquisition’s assistance in transporting and releasing this cargo from its ship._
> 
> _If you have doubts of my intentions, I ask you to consult Varric, I’m sure he can tell you more about my character and morals._
> 
> _I anxiously await your reply._
> 
> _Yours truly,_
> 
> _Isabela_
> 
> _Admiral of the Felicisima Armada_

“Cullen, you were in Kirkwall much longer than I was, do you know anything more about this Isabela?” Leliana looked at the Commander expectantly.

“It would be really nice if everyone around here stopped assuming I knew everyone on Kirkwall. I was a preoccupied at the time, with Kirkwall’s Circle falling to pieces.” Cullen took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I saw her in the Gallows on a few occasions. As the letter states, she was a companion of Hawke and they travelled together frequently. As I recall, she played a part in the Qunari uprising that gave Hawke her title, and spent most of her time in Lowtown’s tavern, The Hanged Man. That’s all I know about her.”

Leliana frowned. “She _was_ involved in the Qunari uprising. As I recall, she was the reason the Qunari even came to the city to begin with. I’d met her before then, in my travels with Warden Cousland. She was an acquaintance of Zevran Arainai-“

“The Antivan assassin? He’s been in contact with us, too.” Josephine interjected.

“Yes. But I met her only briefly, in Denerim. I’m afraid I don’t recall much of the meeting; it has been more than ten years.”

“It seems that Isabela herself has offered us the best advice. We should fetch master Tethras, he can tell us more about…”

The door to the War Room creaked as it was pushed open. Varric Tethras swaggered in like he was the answer to every problem in the room. “I thought I heard my name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m choosing to believe here that Isabela is actually an Admiral within The Raiders of the Waking Sea, in fact the entire fic rests upon it. So, please bear with me.


	4. The Sorrow of a Blight Unbearable

“Exactly how long did you stand out there, waiting for your name to be dropped, just to make that entrance?” Leliana’s mouth was turned up into an unusual smile.

Varric grinned. “Not as long as I thought I would have to, if I’m entirely honest.”

Cullen looked markedly less amused. “How did you even know to stand out there in the first place?”

“Because Josephine isn’t the only one who gets post from Rivaini pirates,’ Varric said, fishing Isabella’s letter out of his pocket. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Varric and Josephine swapped letters, while Varric urged Josephine to ignore the first half of his letter. The dwarf’s eyes flickered over Isabella’s second letter, grin becoming broader with every line he read. He barely even believed Isabela wrote this. No, scratch that, he didn’t believe Isabela wrote this at all. Not nearly enough sexual innuendo’s.

 _So, Bela’s got personnel to write letters for her now. My, hasn’t she moved up in the world,_ he thought. He looked up at Josephine. The Ambassador’s eyes flicked over the last few lines.

“Well. If Varric will vouch for her, we can at least conclude that she does indeed intend to free the slaves.” She looked up at the rest of the people assembled in this room, as if looking for their approval of her summary.

Varric scoffed, “It’s as if none of you read _The Tale of the Champion_. Bela doesn’t do slavery. I’d sooner believe Vivienne declaring her intention of moving to the Korckari Wilds.” He handed Josephine her letter back.

“The wording is peculiar. She must know we don’t endorse slavery, why not speak plainly, why all the euphemisms?” The commander paced around the war table, analysing the coast of Rivain.

Varric could practically see the strategy forming in his head. _He wants to do it_ Varric realized. He felt a surge of relief. They’d be saving Bela as much as they be saving the slaves.

“The Inquisition can’t be seen openly working against the Tevinter empire like this. Slavery is an integral part of their culture, they rely on it as much as they rely on magic,” Leliana explained, “Should this letter fall into the wrong hands, or should the admiral’s plan go poorly, the wording of her letter will allow us to feign ignorance of Isabela’s true intentions.”

Varric scoffed. “Please, a Mabari would know what that letter means. But, being seen as incompetent is better than being seen as enemies of the Imperium, I suppose.”

“We will have to handle this carefully. Even with the letter being worded as it is, if we get caught and Archon hears of it, this operation could jeopardize the Inquisition’s position in Tevinter. It could cost us our Tevinter support.”

Varric’s brow furrowed. “Hmm.”

Leliana’s head turned towards him. “Is something wrong, Varric?”

“No. No, I’m just… worried about her. Bela is a big girl, but as she said, this might be too much to handle. She’s tried this before, and it backfired on her.”

“An entire ship of slaves…”

“Several, if I’m not mistaken.” Josephine interjected.

“Maker…” Cullen breathed, firmly grasping his sword.

“We’re going to do it, right?” Varric asked, suddenly aware that nobody in the room had actually voiced that intention yet.

“Personally, I think we should, but ultimately, it is for the Inquisitor to decide that.” Cullen said.

For a moment, everyone’s head turned towards the door, as if expecting Pyra Lavellan to waltz through the door at the mention of her title, like Varric had.

When that didn’t happen, Varric turned towards the ambassador. “Well Ruffles? If there are no more decision to be made, I think we should get on with it.

“Don’t you think we should wait? Judging by what happened yesterday, I don’t think we should bother her…” Leliana started, but Varric interrupted her.

“Nightingale, the last thing the Inquisitor needs is to be treated like a fragile porcelain doll. If we start doubting her, she’ll collapse under the responsibility. She needs us to believe in her.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Varric here, Leliana. She needs to be confident. If she doesn’t, her magic…”

Varric sighed. “Curly. Not now.” _Ever the Templar, that one…_ Varric thought. The commander fell silent, and returned his attention to the map. His brow furrowed as he studied the coast of Rivain. Josephine looked at the letter again, and Varric could see Leliana inching towards the door. Itching to get to her tower and uncover everything she could about Isabela, no doubt.

“Shall I go and tell her then?” Varric asked. The three advisors nodded absentmindedly. “Right then. Appreciate the enthusiasm.” The dwarf turned around and walked back towards the main hall, rehearsing what he would say to Pyra. When he walked into the main hall however, it was clear that he faced an altogether different challenge. Finding her.

 

* * *

 

“If the Kid was here, we’d have found her in no time!” Varric complained.

“In all likelihood, Cole is with her, Varric”, Dorian interjected, helpful as ever.

“Yes, thank you Sparkles.” His voice was frustrated, but behind all that theatre, Varric was glad Cole was probably with Pyra. At least she wouldn’t be alone. Varric worried about the Inquisitor. Pyra wasn’t as strong or resilient as Nylah Hawke, she was much more fragile than the Elf would like people to know. The dwarf didn’t like the idea of Pyra wandering around the vast fortress. They had to find her. A mission that didn’t have to do with Corypheus or the end of the world as they knew it might just be the thing Pyra needed. Andraste’s ass, when going up against the Tevinter Imperium and helping a Rivaini pirate smuggle slaves across the border was his idea of a vacation, shit had gotten messed up.

They’d spent most of the morning searching for Pyra, checking every nook and cranny of Skyhold, but the Inquisitor had proven herself unwilling to be found. Not that that surprised Varric. If he were in her place, he doubted he’d want company either. Pyra had kept herself strong at breakfast, but if Dorian and Bull were to be believed she had vanished out the main door soon after. The garden had yielded no results, and neither had the stables. Pyra’s mount was still there, and Varric assumed that even the ice-mage didn’t want to brave Skyhold’s freezing exterior on foot. Not without warning someone, at least. This really shouldn’t be that hard. They’d looked everywhere they thought the Dalish Mage would go. They’d walked the ramparts twice, practically turned the mage tower upside down, they’d broken etiquette by barging into the Inquisitor’s quarters, but they hadn’t found her.

“Come on people, think! Where else could she have gone?” Varric turned towards his search party. They stood in front of the sparring ring, at the bottom of the stairs leading to Skyhold’s main door. Bull’s brow was furrowed, looking thoughtful. _A Ben-Hassrath not finding one tiny little Elf. Yeah, that would be pretty upsetting,_ Varric thought. Dorian was scanning the battlements again, hoping Pyra would magically pop up.

“Why don’t we try the Undercroft? The Inquisitor does like working on her amour”, Cassandra suggested. The Seeker’s face was filled with concern, frantically looking around Skyhold, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“She wouldn’t have been able to get there without anyone seeing, we’ve got Josie watching the main hall, remember? She would have sent a messenger.” Varric said, stretching his short neck out, looking across the courtyard again.

Sera’s head poked out of her window in the tavern.

“You all looking for Elfy?”

“We are. Have you seen her?” Cassandra replied.

Sera snorted. “Try the garden. Trees is usually where you find tits, innit?” she said. She stuck out her tongue and disappeared back into the tavern.

“You know; I wonder why she even sticks around. She can’t stand Pyra.” Varric observed, shaking his head.

Dorian shrugged. “A sentiment Pyra shares. You can practically taste the vitriol in the air, every time those two are in a room together.”

“I don’t trust her. She has no respect for anything we do.” Cassandra added.  She shook her head. “I’ll check the stables again.” With that, the Seeker turned around and marched down the stairs.

“Maybe we should ask Cullen to have some of his soldiers search the castle?” Dorian suggested.

“And have the entire Inquisition thinking their Inquisitor has gone crazy? No Sparkles, this needs to be kept quiet. Yesterday’s display was bad enough already. People are already talking, the last thing we need to do is fan the flames.” Varric pinched the bridge of his nose again, trying to think of any other place the Inquisitor could be hiding out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, but we're back baby!
> 
> Finals are out of the way and I can write again!
> 
> Enjoy, and please do leave your thoughts!


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